Virginia drew further backward. She saw through his artifice and once more began to fear him. The strain on her nerves was becoming severe and her countenance warmed with contending emotions. He had pleaded for aid to escape and expressed himself as sorry for his misdeeds. Yet she believed his protestations were not sincere. Nevertheless, considering how much she was in his power, the great scandal his testimony in court would create, the complete undoing of all his wicked schemes, and the possibility of him leading a better life, was fast weighing in his favor, besides only brute revenge would be gratified by his long imprisonment, and his punishment, therefore, only an empty satisfaction. Rutley read her thoughts and a cunning smile played about his mouth. He never really intended to trust his liberty in her keeping, and since she was the only person with actual knowledge of his whereabouts, he did not propose to jeopardize his chance of escape by allowing her freedom. For his own safety, he was bound to conceal her as well as himself, at least until darkness set in. His humble appeal was but a ruse to gain her sympathy, and his simulated penitence for his wickedness was an artifice, but it succeeded in touching the tender cords of the girl's heart. Her vigilance abated. Her hand slipped from the table. She straightened up and cast her eyes to the floor, as one often does when mentally absorbed in weighing the potency of some great question. The moment he had maneuvered for, and waited for, and watched for, had arrived. The spring of a cat upon an unsuspecting mouse could not have been swifter, more sudden or unerring. The cloven hoof was revealed. Before she had time to even guess at his purpose, his hand was upon her mouth, while his other arm was thrown around her form, binding her arms to her sides. He forced her into a wicker chair that stood conveniently near and held her down sideways with the aid of his knee. This method permitted him to withdraw his arm from around her form and to snatch a doily from the table which he quickly wadded and forced into her mouth, gagging her effectively. Then his eyes swept the room for something that would serve as a cord to bind her. [Illustration: Rutley--"I could even kiss those red, ripe, cherry lips."] On the floor, distant a couple of yards, lay the shawl that Virginia had let fall from her nerveless arm when Rutley entered the room. He wriggled the chair toward it, and by extending his foot drew the shawl to his grasp. It was a summer shawl, of generous proportions. The fabric was silk-wool mixture, of fine network weave, and consequently light and strong. Twisting it into a rope he bound her arms and limbs, meantime saying in a low, guarded voice, and with the utmost sauvity and coolness: